Halfway through this magnificent exhibition hangs a portrait by Goya so famous it has its own nickname – The Black Duchess. It shows a fiercely intelligent woman standing outdoors in a romantic landscape dressed in crackling black lace. Her eyes flash, her sash blazes scarlet, the yellow and gold of her bodice burn like flames through the lace.
The Duchess of Alba is as beautiful as she is haughty. One hand on hip, she points down with the other to some words written in the sand beneath her feet. Solo Goya – Only Goya. Is it a pledge of love, or an imperious summons, as if the artist should kneel before her? He puts himself, and us, on eye level with her gilded slippers. The duchess was his patron and friend, and perhaps more. What the portrait – and its subject – meant to him may remain forever undisclosed but Goya never let the painting go. It was with him until his death.
